The Poetry Marathon

Nerd’s LOVE!

 

Book! Book! Book! are the only things they love,

Without books they cannot live in this world.

They don’t have even a single minute to waste,

And they don’t like to do anything in haste.

 

So how could a nerd ever fall in love,

With someone who is not a nerd.

If they don’t have time for anything,

Then how can they make their loved ones smile for something.

 

But, I must not forget that nerds are also humans,

For they have body and heart like humans.

Their heart also beat like ours,

Though they don’t know how love can be showered.

 

But nerd always make right choice,

For they choose someone before thinking twice.

For me to understand, it’s really very tough,

For I could never understand nerd’s LOVE…

Lust love

And you were all

The nakedness of my soul

The constellation of words

Not written

 

Nakedness of my soul

Long forgotten under soils of time

Not written not told not heard

Never covered never found

Long forgotten the story of you and me

Do i remind you my dear

Never covered never found

The shroud of love is lost

Do i remind how we loved

Do you still see it in my eyes

Love is lost

Whom to blame

The source of love is

Lust

Unrhymed Pantoum

The Earth spins on
Around the Sun
The Moon comes up
Amongst the stars

Around the Sun
The planets sing,
Amongst the stars
They’re barely seen

The planets sing
Their wordless song
They’re barely seen
And seldom heard

Their wordless song
The Great Minds seek
And seldom heard
The children cry

The Great Minds seek.
The Moon comes up.
The children cry.
The Earth spins on.

Dr. Seuss choices

(more…)

Butterflies

Butterflies fly all way to the home
With wings riding winds of freedom
They falter, halt and move again
They know their journey is not long.

With wings riding winds of freedom
They glide effortlessly though
They know their journey is not long
They keep going on their own.

They glide effortlessly though
The consistency needs some effort
They keep going on their own
Butterflies fly all way to the home.

Passion in art

She was lost in her world hours and hours
Painting new worlds escaping her reality
Singing the sweetest melodies bringing her clarity
She played well with words she transformed your whole world.

Painting new worlds escaping her reality
She would spend the day in gaze …
She played well with words she transformed your whole world.
Her passions became her escape …

She would spend the day in gaze …
She was lost in her world hours and hours
Her passions became her escape …
Singing the sweetest melodies bringing her clarity

Hour Seven: Lovers Embrace

Embrace me in your arms
I shall wrap you in my own
Let us get lost in each other’s atmospheres as they come together into one
Everything else in the world can slip into a distant memory
Time stops on its heels
This moment is all our own

Hour Eight: My stupid obsessions

I hate all the thoughts that keep me awake
because my mind refuses to relax
taking my body along for the ride
long after I have closed my eyes

Because my mind refuses to relax
I toss and turn and worry and fret
and strain at the yoke
Is it morning yet?

I toss and turn and worry and fret
over more and more of the same
Is it morning yet?
I’m so tired…

Over more and more of the same
lands a layer of dreams that make no sense
I’m so tired…
Can’t they tell me something I can understand?

Layers of dreams that make no sense
build and build until I’m afraid of sleep
Can’t they tell me something I can understand?
2 a.m. is no time to be solving puzzles

that build and build until I’m afraid of sleep
I hate all the thoughts that keep me awake
2 a.m. is no time to be solving puzzles
because my mind refuses to relax

(13 August 2016)

Losing

Take the time to
Tear down the
Self confidence

Wondering why
No one connects

Losing

Not My Memories

Awakened by someone else’s dreams,

vague, unlived memories.

Sepia toned or black and white tasting of

big band music,

the failing of an empire or falling off the earth.

A voice speaking of a tropical veranda

where tigers paced beneath louvered windows.

The not mine voice told

of the pom, pom, pom sound a pug, a trail along the porch.

Heavy breathed feline greatness panting in the humid jungle night…

-Sumatra?-

I, awake fully now in the humid corn steam wet of Iowa night and wonder,

where this memory palace is built,

whose rooms these are.

I walk the hall, wonder if it was something I read,

or saw in a film

or was it then another dimension, a time trip me?